A Good Samaritan
by Random Flyer
Summary: One shot. Henry gets help from a vigilante after one of his nightly swims. Please R&R.


**A/N: I love crossovers. My friend says I'm weird for reading fanfic more for the crossovers than anything else. I think there's a lot to be said about being able to combine two worlds and the many ways it can happen. It makes me sad when I don't find the crossovers I want to read which can result in my writing said crossovers. Here's one of them.**

**I do not own Daredevil or Forever.**

**A Good Samaritan**

"Need help?" The voice came from the shadows, startling Henry Morgan as he waded the last few steps to shore.

Henry flinched and spun toward the voice. His hands dropped, trying to preserve what little remained of his modestly. "Ah…" Henry said, squinting into the dark. He could just make out the outline of a person in the shadows. Another look and he saw the telltale horns of Hell's Kitchen's own Daredevil.

Considering how close to Hell's Kitchen Henry lived, worked, often died and climbed out of the river, it was surprising he had not met the local vigilante before now. After the night he just had, he could have foregone the pleasure. Henry really wasn't in the mood to deal with lunatics, even righteous ones.

"No," Henry shook his head, shivers and the cold temperature already affecting his speech, "'m fine, thank you. Just need to get a phone and call my friend to pick me up."

Unfortunately, the figure moved closer. He stepped out of the shadows showing that is was, in fact, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. "You'll freeze before you get to one," he observed and threw a ratty old blanket for Henry to catch.

The thing was filthy and smelled like it came from a dumpster, but it was better than hypothermia at the moment, so Henry wrapped it around his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, the words difficult to push out from more than just the shivers wracking his frame. He stumbled up on to the bank and the pavement. His feet were thankfully too numb to feel the painfully cold ground.

The masked man moved closer. The street lights gave Henry a better look at the costume. It was less Halloween and more body armor than he expected. Only the color and the mask really lent it anything theatrical. He didn't know why Hansen scoffed at it so much. If Lucas was anyone to listen to there were some vigilantes running around in this and other cities with decidedly less practical outfits. Perhaps Daredevil was less of a lunatic than Henry first assumed. Lunatics certainly didn't go to the trouble of protecting themselves from injury.

"Here, use my phone," Daredevil's voice startled Henry and he realized the vigilante had moved yet closer.

It took Henry another long moment to realize the vigilante was holding a flip phone out for Henry to take. The cold must really be getting to him, Henry reflected as he blinked at the phone, shivers wracking his frame. He reached out and took the phone, struggled to flip it open, then dial Abe's number. It only vaguely crossed his mind that entering in Abraham's phone number to a potentially unstable and violent vigilante's phone might not be a good idea. The cold quickly crowded out any common sense. All Henry wanted right now was to be warm and home, in that order.

The next few minutes settled into a blur. Henry was fairly certain he managed to punch in the number and mumbled a message to Abraham's worried voice. At some point, he found himself on the ground with two arms wrapped around him and another covering of questionable origin draped over him. There was one more fragment of being in the car, Abraham streaming a worried commentary next to him and the heat on full blast. Then, Henry was home. The shivers still wracked Henry's frame, but he blinked around him as if coming out of a dream.

"Oh, thank goodness," Abraham said, catching Henry's gaze. "You had me worried there. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to turn right back around and head back to the river."

Henry blinked again, more awake. He looked down at himself, bundled in blankets, lying on the couch and with a space heater pointed in his general direction. Henry pushed himself up. He reached out to the space heater and turned it down to a lower setting.

"I mean, really pops," Abe said, moving to the kitchen. The room only had a few dim lights on and the light from the street coming through the curtained windows. "You really need to try and avoid dying this late in the season." Abe returned a moment later with a steaming mug of something. "Hot toddy," he said as he handed it off to Henry. "Figure we should head off that cold now before it gets a chance."

The cup was painful to hold, it was so hot, but Henry switched it between hands till it cooled enough to drink. "I'll try to keep that in mind." He inhaled the lemon-scented steam rising from the mug.

"Care to explain what happened?" Abe asked, cocking his head.

Henry frowned, thinking back. It took a moment to remember, thanks to the hypothermia. "Remember the case I'm working on? The series of homeless deaths? I went to the location of another potential murder site, an abandoned building near Hell's Kitchen, but unfortunately I didn't find anything."

There had been a string of homicides among the homeless population. It was drawn out over several weeks and months. The police still weren't convinced the deaths were strictly related, though Jo and Hansen were willing to take Henry's opinion into consideration with his track record. Still, the deaths weren't a high priority, much to Henry's objection. It seemed no one cared very much if the city's lowest of the low disappeared from its streets. No one in the department would even hear the term "serial killer" either, even though Henry had a bad feeling that was exactly what they were dealing with in this case.

"So how did you end up in the river?" Abe frowned.

Henry grimaced. "I was mugged leaving the scene."

Really, it was Henry's own fault. He should have realized how dangerous the neighborhood was at that late hour. Instead, he was caught in his own thoughts about the case. His distraction left a perfect opportunity for someone to grab him and drag him into a dark alleyway. After that it was frantic movement, a flash or two of a knife and Henry found himself bleeding out on the pavement. It was just as well he didn't have to explain his many deaths to Jo. She would never let him live down his carelessness. Judging by Abraham's disbelieving expression, neither would his son.

"And Daredevil?" Abe asked, leaning forward, eyebrows climbing almost to his hair line.

Now Henry huffed, taking a deep gulp of his hot toddy for the whiskey if nothing else. It burned on the way down more from the temperature than the alcohol. "He saw me swimming to shore, then came over to make sure I was alright."

"Huh," Abe grunted, leaning back. "That was nice of him, a regular Good Samaritan." The comment came with only partial sarcasm.

"He's a lunatic," Henry said, though more from sheer habit than from any feeling behind it. Dealing with Lucas's constant fawning over each new vigilante and especially the one that started the trend made Henry sick of the entire subject. He took another gulp of his drink and winced. It was still too hot and there wasn't enough whiskey.

"He's the lunatic that saved you from freezing to death…again and agreed not to take you to a hospital from what he said when I got there." Abe grinned. "Wait till Lucas hears about you meeting Daredevil."

"We are not telling Lucas, that's final." Henry slipped into his stern-father voice as if it was the sixties and Abe was going through his rebellious stage all over again. "I'm putting my foot down." Henry blamed the hypothermia and the whiskey for that phrase slipping out. He yawned, exhaustion pulling at him and drained the mug.

"Fine Pops, fine," Abe said, raising both arms in surrender. His expression softened. "Go back to sleep. Get some rest." He took the now empty mug, pat Henry on the arm, and left the room turning out the lights.

Henry slid down on the couch again. He should go to his own bed but he was too tired and already warm and comfortable. Hopefully, that would be his last interaction with the vigilante. As long as he stayed away from Hell's Kitchen it would probably be fine. Dismissing the matter entirely, Henry huffed out a sigh and let himself fall back asleep.

**::THE END****...for now::**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a review and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is welcomed as are ideas, suggestions, etc.**


End file.
